


Untitled (Drunk Sex!)

by beckalina



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckalina/pseuds/beckalina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe eyes Nick as he tries to slump forward on his elbows but slips, head thunking against the table, “I think maybe it’s time for you to go to bed, rockstar.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (Drunk Sex!)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2010, just realized it wasn't posted here. (Coincidentally, this was my first foray into the fandom and my first finished fic in several years. Bawww.)

The table in Joe’s kitchen is littered with bright red solo cups and novelty shot glasses. Most of the guests have either left or passed out on various pieces of furniture—or the floor. Joe is pretty sure that he, Nick and Garbo are the only ones still awake and drinking. He’s halfway watching them play Quarters with two of the shot glasses, Nick’s a cowboy boot and Garbo’s a shapely pair of breasts that Joe had to dig out of the trash after the last time his mom visited.

Joe thinks it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to have a loud party when there’s a good chance that the entire world is watching, but it’s worth it to see Nick finally let loose a little. Still doesn’t stop Joe from peering out the window every few minutes, searching the darkness for the bright lights of TMZ’s cameras. He’s maybe still a little paranoid from the bong rip he was coerced into taking earlier.

Garbo cheers behind him and Joe winces. That means Nick lost, again. Joe slowly turns to look at his brother and has to laugh. Nick doesn’t seem to care that he lost his third straight game of Quarters—though Joe would bet real money that his younger brother is going to spend hours bouncing coins once he’s sober again—he’s just staring off into space, smacking his lips together.

Joe can’t help but laugh, a little higher pitched than normal. “Alright there, bro?”

“M’lips are numb,” Nick smacks them once more for emphasis, “They. Are. Numb. Nu-umb. Nu-um-b. S’funny word. Right, Joe?”

“Yeah, Nick, it’s a funny word,” Joe eyes Nick as he tries to slump forward on his elbows but slips, head thunking against the table, “I think maybe it’s time for you to go to bed, rockstar.”

Nick just nods his head against the wood and holds his hands out to Joe, who rolls his eyes before pulling the younger boy out of the chair. Nick slots himself against Joe’s side, throwing his arms around Joe’s waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

“You okay getting Mr. Lightweight up the stairs?” Garbo asks with a smirk.

“Hey! S’my first time,” Nick mutters indignantly against Joe’s shoulder, “I drank more than Joe did his first time! And I haven’t even pu—Wait. Wait. No, m’okay. I haven’t even puked!”

“Yeah, I can handle it. Come on,” Joe pushes at Nick, pulls away from the hand that’s been creeping up the back of his neck, “You have legs, dude. I’m not carrying your ass.”

It takes much longer than it should to get Nick up the staircase, but Joe manages. There are a few times when Nick dissolves into giggles and Joe just sort of wants to smack him. He has to stand behind his brother and basically push him forward for the last few steps. Nick steps over the threshold of Joe’s bedroom at the top of the landing, and promptly falls face down on the bed.

“C’mere,” he mumbles into the comforter, patting the mattress next to him a little too hard for emphasis.

Joe leaps onto the bed and bounces a few times just to hear Nick groan. He kind of wants to make his brother run for the bathroom, if only to avoid the inevitable condescension when Nick wakes up and realizes that he even makes a better first time drinker than Joe. It doesn’t last too long, because Nick reaches out an arm and pulls Joe’s leg out from underneath him, causing the older boy to tumble backwards onto the bed.

“Hey—”

Nick cuts Joe off by rolling into him, brushing his lips against Joe’s earlobe, and sliding his hands underneath Joe’s shirt. There really isn’t much that Joe can say, after that—he opens his mouth but no words come out. Nick is making little content snuffling noises against Joe’s throat and all Joe can think is that he is probably not sober enough for this.

If he were sober, he would get Nick tucked into the bed and take the futon—which he bought in a fit of I’m-totally-a-bachelor-now pique—across the room. Instead he chucks off his jeans and starts pulling Nick’s shoes and pants off, impeded when the younger boy starts wiggling. Absently, Joe smacks Nick’s thigh to get him to stop moving. There’s no missing the soft moan that echoes through the suddenly too quiet room, even muffled as it is by the thick down comforter.

Joe is definitely not sober enough for this.

He pulls away from Nick slowly, keeping his eye on the too still form of his brother. Joe bites his bottom lip until he tastes the sharp tang of his own blood and takes a deep breath. He pulls Nick’s pants the rest of the way off and throws them on the floor next to the bed, watching Nick for any signs of movement. He chances a touch to the back of Nick’s leg, ghosting his fingers over the skin before rubbing them into Nick’s thigh in a sort of massage. The lack of reaction is telling on its own.

Convinced that the moment has passed—and at once thankful and disappointed—Joe shoves Nick over and pulls the comforter out from underneath him. Joe settles onto the bed, trying to ignore the staccato beat of his heart while he flips the blanket back over the bed and rests his head on the overstuffed pillow. He glances at Nick out the corner of his eye, but the boy still hasn’t moved.

A few minutes pass and Nick’s breathing evens out next to him. Joe slowly lets himself calm down, exhaling a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He closes his eyes and waits for the world to gradually fall away. Nick isn’t actually asleep, though, and Joe finds this out when the younger boy throws a leg over Joe’s hip and uses it to draw him closer. Joe can feel every inch of Nick pressing tightly into his side.

“Want you here,” Nick’s breath coasts over Joe’s cheek and his left hand slides underneath Joe’s shirt again, tracing circles against the bare skin, “Want you ev’rywhere, Joe. All the time.”

“Nick,” Joe tries to wriggle out of his brother’s grasp, but Nick’s stronger and better coordinated than Joe expects him to be, “Nick, you’re really drunk, man.”

“So? Know what I want. Mm.” Nick punctuates his statement with a roll of his hips and Joe actually sees stars—he’s really hoping that the weed wasn’t laced with something.

Joe wants Nick to stop as much as he wants him to keep going. He wants Nick on top of him, he wants Nick’s hands pressing bruises into his hips. He wants to pretend that this isn’t happening, but just long enough to make it to the bathroom to jerk off. Nick’s hands moves lower, tracing the line of soft hair that runs down Joe’s abdomen, his mouth working along Joe’s jaw.

Joe isn’t strong enough. He isn’t going to fight anymore, because Nick always wins, somehow. He turns his face to meet Nick’s and their mouths crash together almost instantly, teeth grazing lips as their tongues tangle together. Nick isn’t as coordinated as Joe originally thought, so the older boy maneuvers himself on top of his brother and presses him into the mattress, licking and biting at Nick’s full bottom lip.

Everything kind of blurs after that, Joe is sort of becoming unhinged and he’s consumed with the need to kiss and lick every inch of the other boy’s neck. Nick’s hands are everywhere—tangling in Joe’s hair, running up and down his sides, slipping beneath the soft cotton of his boxer briefs to grasp the bare skin of his ass. Joe moans, probably too loudly, against Nick’s jaw. He reaches down, shoves his own underwear out of the way before snagging his fingers in the waistband of Nick’s boxers.

Both brothers hiss when the back of Joe’s hand brushes against Nick’s cock. This is too much, too fast, and Joe knows he won’t last long. He wraps his fingers around Nick’s erection, dropping his head to Nick’s shoulder when he reciprocates. Joe bites the skin there when he comes a scant few minutes later, his hips rolling of their own volition, fucking into the tight grip of Nick’s fist.

He keeps working his hand over Nick’s cock and captures the other boy’s mouth again, swallowing the breathy moans Nick makes as he gets closer. Joe runs the pad of his thumb over the tip while pulling at Nick's lower lip with his teeth, and it’s enough to set Nick off. His hips jerk roughly against the mattress, shaking the entire bed frame. Joe collapses against him and uses his clean hand to push away the sweaty curls clinging to Nick's forehead.

"Ew," Nick scrunches his nose and squeezes a hand between their bodies, "Sticky."

Joe laughs at the expression on Nick's face, and it distracts him from the panic growing deep in his gut. He rolls away and drags a hand along the floor for the towel that he dropped there after his shower that morning, wiping them both off with the soft terrycloth. The room is stiflingly silent, the only sound their harsh breathing as they come down.

“Nick? Nick are, are you—we—okay?” Joe’s heart is in his throat. He just experienced one of the most amazing orgasms of his life—definitely in the top five—and it was at his drunken brother’s hand. There are so many things wrong with what just happened, he doesn’t even know where to begin.

The silence he’s met with does nothing to calm him down. He takes what he thinks must be his millionth deep breath of the night and turns to look at Nick.

The younger boy is fast asleep, a pleased smile playing across his lips. Joe blinks at him incredulously, laughs a little to himself. He reaches out to pull the sleeping form closer and arranges the blanket over both of them.

Joe falls asleep trying to figure out when they’re going to have enough time to get Nick drunk again.


End file.
